Music Notes
by belaruslovesyou
Summary: Typical high school jock Alfred is failing some classes and has to take an elective or be kicked off the team. And it's the worst elective ever-chorus! But then he meets stubborn pianist Natalya, and now he can't get enough of it. T for Alfie's mouth. Sometimes.
1. Chapter 1

**Privet!~ Yep, so I'm writing again. Random burst of inspiration.**

**Vlad: You need to go out and... get some actual friends.**

**Thanks for your wonderful suggestion. -_- Anyway, I don't own Hetalia, yada, yada, if I did all it would be is yaoi, blah blah.**

**Um... probably some fluff in later chapters, rated T for safety. Main couple: America x Belarus. There'll be hints at so much others that I'm not even going to list them.**

**Vlad: PEETA X GALE? **

**No, Vlad. No Hunger Games.**

**Vlad: You ruined my day. Moron.**

**That's what I aim for. Anyway, enjoy!**

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><p>I don't get these people.<p>

Yeah, so maybe I'm failing geometry. And just scraping by in english and biology. But that doesn't mean I should have to take some stupid elective. I mean, why not summer school? That's what I asked coach yesterday after practice:

_"Coach, why do I need to take an elective? Can't I just take summer school like everyone else?"_

_"Alfred, you either take the course, or get kicked off the team. And let me tell you something-you get kicked off the team, you can kiss any scholarship goodbye."_

Personally, I thought that was pretty harsh. Why do I need passing grades for football? You don't get as much of a rush acing a test as you down making a winning touchdown.

But taking the freaking course couldn't be enough for coach and the teachers. Oh, no, they had to _choose _the course for me. _Choose_ it! And they couldn't even choose something good! I have to admit, I wouldn't be so pissed if it was gym; I'd pass that one with flying colors. Even woodshop would've been so-so. But no. Guess they decided to give me the full-on treatment.

I sigh as I sit in the front left row of my small school's equally small audiotorium, all the way off to the side. Yep, you guessed it. I have to take chorus for the remainder of my junior year.

I don't know what to do. I mean, it should be easy, right? That's what everyone tells me-well, at least those of my friends who decided to take electives instead of study halls. Which isn't a lot, come to think of it. I'm kinda worried about it, though. I don't know anything about music.

Well, okay. I do know a little. But I know the stuff on the radio, not the crappy classical stuff they sing in here. From what I can hear from people talking in the old, red middle section seats, there's scales and key signatures and time signatures and treble and bass and alto and... I don't think I can remember all that. I hope to God I don't have to. Thinking about it makes me bite my fingernails, a habit which I thought I broke when my popularity status went way up, due to being the football star and all.

It's extremely hard to ignore all the people watching me right now. It must really confuse them. It's not a common sight, me in the audiotorium. I'm only ever in here for some stupid assembly or awards cermeony, or the occasional change in study hall location. But never, in a million years, would I have ever been here for an actual class.

Hmph. A million years goes by real quick, doesn't it?

I recognize the teacher as he walks in. Mr. Edelstein is also the concert and marching band director at our dear little hick school. I recognize him from football season. Although I'd recognize his wife more than I would him. That Hungarian woman is one of the hottest foriegn girls I've ever seen. I wonder how he managed to get her? Anyway, everyone says he's pretty cool, except for his accent being a little hard to understand-his parents migrated here from Austria when he was ten or something. I realize now that I've never actually seen him in school, since I never had to go to the end of that particular hallway where the three measly Fine Arts Department rooms are located. It's odd to see him in work clothes; I'm used to the Friday night sweatshirt and jeans, telling drummers to stay in tempo (I'm guessing I'll learn what that is)and reminding trumpets about F sharp (whatever that may be). They must be really bad at F sharp, though. They seem to never get it right.

"Alright, everybody!" he says, and I doze off as he takes roll, barely noticing my name being called. I let out a small, disinterested 'here' and watch him call the rest of the names off. I hear him mutter something along the lines of, "She's always late. Always." I wonder who he's talking about?

As the rest of the class take their spots on the ancient risers, he clears one in the top row for me. He told me I'd be a tenor, because apparently we have a tenor shortage. This confuses me deeply. He didn't bother to explain what the hell a 'tenor' is, and so now I'm kinda lost. I'm standing next to someone who I don't recognize at all to my left and this mousy, shaggy brown haired kid that I somewhat recognize to my right. I know he's a junior, too, and his name is Toris. I think.

Edlestein (I don't really do the Mr. and Mrs. often) starts us with these warm-ups. I'm surprised that they're relatively easy to catch onto, but I don't get my hopes up-I haven't seen the actual music yet. I notice that Edelstein keeps eyeing the black piano, though-not like he wants to play it, but like he's... expecting something. I don't see why he wouldn't want to play it. Dude's, like, first class.

Damn, these warm-ups go on forever. I watch Edelstein as he continues eyeing the piano, and then the doors to the audiotorium stage. Fifteen minutes into class, I follow his watchful eye to said doors, a relieved look now crossing his face. And-

Oh... who would that be?

A rather pale girl who I've never seen before walks monotonously through the audiotorium doors. She has this really long, oddly colored, pin straight, plaitnum hair that falls down past her waist. It can't be dyed; I've seen dyed hair before, and lots of it. That's most certainly natural. She looks to be about five foot three, and... hmm, a freshman? Yes, a freshman-if she were in tenth grade, I'd have probably seen her at least once or twice by now. She walks somewhere back stage, and I have to admit, I'm kinda disappointed. Now I know that I couldn't have ever seen her before; I'd have remembered her. Finally, she comes back with a black folder and sits at the piano. I notice then that here eyes are oddly colored, too-this weird, pretty, sort of seductive midnight blue. Her face is set in a grimace, and has been since she set foot on this stage. She has this cute little white bow in her hair, too, off to the right.

I don't even know this girl's name, but I decide, right then and there, that I love her.

Okay, maybe not love, but like. At least like. I watch in amazement as Edlestein just barely awknowledges her, with a slight smile. This surprises me-shouldn't he be freaking out on her or something, since she's so late? But no, wait. She's sitting at the piano, so she must be the pianist. A teacher's pet. Probably has some sort of special privilege. "Nice of you to join us, Miss. Alfroskaya," he says, then goes to sift through a huge pile of songs he has lying in a disorderly pile on a black stand in front of him. She merely gives him a slight nod of the head, that sort of attractive and what I now assume to be characteristic scowl on her face.

Alfroskaya... Alfroskaya... that sounds quite familiar. After a few seconds, it hits me. About two years ago, there was this really freaky kid named Ivan Braginski. Very, very odd. There were a lot of girls that liked him, but were to scared to go near him. Everyone was. He's an heir to some company, too. He kinda reminded me of my childhood, because I used to watch some cartoon with this teenage boss kid in it who was really standoff-ish. But, anyway, he and his older sister (who graduated a few years before him) migrated here from Russia with their mother and step-father. I realize now that this is his step-sister, Natalya. I think she was, like, five when they migrated... I wonder if she still has her accent? I'd bet it sounds very, very attractive.

I'm handed some four-page long Christmas song (it's late October) and am told to get a half-inch black folder. I nod and let out a small "yes", but I'm not really interested. The only thing in this whole school that I'm interested in right now is that girl at the piano.

You know, come to think of it, this is turning out to be an awesome class.

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><p><strong>End of chapter 1. xD Set in a hick school, because I attend a hick school. ^_^ Spun out in, like, two hours total. So, review. Tune in for later chapters, too! Hope you liked!<strong>

**Oh, and also, random trivia question: "He kinda reminded me of my childhood, because I used to watch some cartoon with this teenage boss kid in it who was really standoff-ish." Can you guess who dear Alfie was talking about? Hint: It's from an anime... ^^**

**Vlad: It's-**

**SHUT YOUR MOUTH.**

**Vlad: I'll shut it when you give me Peeta.**

**... you have issues, my friend.**

**Vlad: *crosses arms* Well, hey, blame yourself for that. You created me. Plus, I'm anime you, remember?**

**... *facepalm* Dear Lord, what have I done...?**

**Haha, so thanks for reading! Again, review, think about that trivia, and tune in for later chapters!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Aye, it's belaruslovesyou~**

**Vlad: LUL NO IT'S ME.**

**Well, yeah... kinda the same thing...**

**Vlad: ... touche.**

**Anyway, sorry about how long it took to update! I don't own Hetalia! *sigh* Here's Chapter 2! Due! xD Enjoy!**

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><p>I miss the bell that signals the end of this fourty minute long torture turned bliss. I move from my spot quickly once I see everyone leaving around me. For fourty some people, our choir is actually pretty frickin' loud.<p>

I'm the last off the stage, besides Edelstein and Natalya. Edelstein rearranges his music into a tall, straight pile that I'm sure will be destroyed by tomorrow morning (our school's concert choir practices during homeroom). He leaves and goes back stage (I think there's a door that leads to the band room back there, but I'm not quite sure). I'm still getting my stuff around when Natalya starts to play the piano, some song she must have memorized, since her folder's closed. It's really flowly and pretty. I really want to stay and listen, but I have to get to history class. Plus, judging by her constant grim expression, she's not someone who would like to be stalked from behind a stage curtain.

I leave class feeling much happier then I did when I entered. I don't bother rushing to history-just turn left out of the audiotorium doors, then turn right. Third door on the left. I love this class-history's my favorite subject. It's also the only one I understand. Plus, all of my history teachers since seventh grade have been really awesome, especially my eigth grade one.

Anyway, I get to class right after the warning bell rings and take my seat in the very back of the third row. I see from the board we're learning about the Revolutionary War. Ha, I should go talk to my mom about this. She's British, and she still insists all us Americans are idiots. I don't think we're idiots, though. The United States of America, the land of the free and the home of the brave, is most certainly _not _idiotic. It's the best damn country on the face of the planet, thank you very much.

I try to pay attention to my teacher's ranting about Paul Revere, but I can't. Natalya's like the plague. I haven't even heard that girl talk, and I can't get her out of my head. So, instead of picturing Paul Revere riding majestically in the dark, Massachusetts night, I picture Natalya playing piano, all flowly and mysterious, grimace erased, replaced by a soft smile, eyes sparkling like a summer night. All shiny with pristine, white stars. Such wonderful, beautiful eyes...

"Psst, Alfred! Alll-fred! _Alfred! _Hey, dummkopf!" The hissing, accented whisper takes me back to reality. Instead of my blissful summer evening, I'm back in school, in the middle of a cloudy, dreary fall day.

I sigh, looking up at the teacher and then over to the whisperer. "What do you want, Gilby?"

Gilbert narrows his gaze at the use of my nickname for him. He's never liked it, not since I started calling him it way back in third grade. "What's with you? You're all outer space-y today, yes?"

I blink at the German, then shake my head. "I'll tell you later. You should probably pay attention, you know. You're almost failing in here."

Gilby snorts and leans back in his desk chair, his hands in his spikey, white hair. "It's a girl, isn't it? Ooh, it is, it is! Alfie has a little crush!" he smirks.

I turn my rapidly reddening face away from him. "I said pay attention," I mutter.

His smirk grows bigger. "I'll pay attention when you do, lover boy!" he chuckles.

I growl some choice words for Gilbert under my breath and try to turn my attention back to the class. Which, of course, brings me back to my dream land.

~/\~

I walk out of school with my head down, focusing on the asphalt of the road between the teachers' parking lot and the students'. We don't have any practice today, thank God. I think I would've exploded, with Gilbert's stupid, childish teasing.

I rushed out of history class as soon as the bell rang, so I wouldn't have to explain anything to him just yet. With lightening speed, I made it to my next class, and endured it in the same dreamlike state. But after that, I couldn't run away anymore. Gilby would be able to find me anywhere in the cafeteria...

_The minute I walk through the doors, he ambushes me. "So, so, so, who is it, Alfie? Who is the witch who has put a spell on you?" he pesters._

_Ha. Witch. That seems a very accurate way to describe her... "Why do you want to know?" I question. "Does it really matter that much? It's only a girl."_

_"Oh, no, no, no!" Gilbert shakes his head rapidly as we set our books down at our usual table, in the back left corner of the room. "No, it is _not _just a girl!"_

_I shake my head in confusion as we get in line for food. "Dude, yes, it is. What would it be if it wasn't a girl? A guy?" I shrudder._

_He chuckles. "No, I mean, it's... you're acting different. I've seen you when you've liked other girls. Sure, you may get a little distracted. But this one's got you on another planet!" He chuckles again, smirking. "Your head is up higher than the clouds! Now, who is she?"_

_I roll my eyes. "You'd think we're two seventh grade girls who can't shut their mouths. Anyway, uh..." I mutter. I'm starting to blush, and I try to focus on the white floor tiles. ""It's... it's, uh..."_

_Gilbert's full-on laughing now. "See? It _is _different! You're blushing like a schoolgirl!"_

_"Shut up! Do you want to know or not?" I hiss. He quiets down, letting a little chortle escape here and there._

_"Okay, I'm quiet now. I want to know," he says earnestly, looking at me with those big eyes. It's quite creepy, actually. Those eyes can get him anything-I've seen it._

_"Uh, o-okay..." I sigh. "Well... h-her last name is Alfroskaya..."_

_He looks at me blankly, like I just said something extremely complicated. "Uh... Natalya?" he cocks his head to one side._

_I nod, still looking away from him. "Yeah..."_

_He stares at me blankly for a few more seconds, and then starts laughing hysterically. "You... you fell for... for that?" He manages between giggle fits. "You.. you're... screwed, man! Screwed!"_

_I stare at him, confused and somewhat concerned. Shaking my head, I ask, "What... what do you mean? I don't understand..."_

_"Alfie," he says as he calms down. "Alfie, Alfie, Alfie. That girl... she'd go out with her step-brother before she'd date anyone from around here!"_

And that little statement there caused me to remain in a frustrated, confused quiet for the rest of the day. I know for a fact that he wasn't being literal-I highly doubt she's into incest... but if she's really that, what's the word, Isolated? Yes, isolated. If she's really that isolated, then I doubt I have a chance...

I sigh and hit my head on the windshield of my white truck. I never thought I'd see the day when the football star couldn't get a girl...

But, wait-that's the thing. I have yet to see that day. So, no. I don't doubt that I have a chance with her. I doubt that _she_ has a chance with anyone else but _me_!

I drive home with a new, determined attitude. Today, Natalya Alfroskaya. Tomorrow, Natalya Jones!

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><p><strong>Chapter 2-complete! ^^ Ehhh, the first chapter was better. But they are only two of many...<br>**

**Vlad: You're a hopeless romantic and you tend to drone on about things. Hell _yes_, there will be more chapters.  
><strong>

**Yeaaaahhh... so, thank you for the reviews on chapter one, and please review this chapter! Tune in for chapter 3, too! I PROMISE I'll have it up faster this time.  
><strong>

**Vlad: Procrastinators of the world, unite! ... tomorrow.  
><strong>

***sigh* True... true...  
><strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Ciao, guys! Hey, guess what I actually updated somewhat faster this time! I deserve a ribbon.  
><strong>

**Vlad: You guys, seriously. You don't know this girl. She's a procrastinating perfectionist. It's pure hell to be in her head.  
><strong>

**I pity you, Vlad. I truly do. Anyway, grazie for the reviews! Chapter three at your service. ^^**

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><p>It's been a few weeks since I started chorus, and I still haven't talked to Natalya. Secretly watched her, yes. Day dreamed about her, yes. But talked to her, no. Not yet. Yet...<p>

We've been sitting here for the past five minutes doing nothing. The concert's in a few days, and Edelstein says we can have some down time now, since we know our music and stuff. It's really awkward, though. I don't talk to anyone, and they don't bother to talk to me. They all broke off into little groups, who now stand talking and laughing around the stage. I sit all alone on the risers, my arms around my knees, staring at the scuffed up floor. I would be staring at Natalya, but she disappeared once Edelstein let us off the hook for the day. I'm not entirely sure where she went, but I think she's back in the band room.

The bell finally rings and the students begin to file off the stage. I mostly follow, but stop behind the curtain where I put my books. I plan on leaving right away, since there's no one for me to watch. I stop when I see Natalya walking to the piano out of my peripheral vision. Well, almost stop. Accidentally run into the doorway is more like it, actually.

"Oh, hell!" I exclaim, forgetting I'm not the only person on stage. I hold my head and rock back and forth. "Damn it!"

"Don't you have a class to get to?" I look up in the direction of the voice and see Natalya standing next to the piano, arms crossed, staring at me blankly.

I forget about the pain in my head and straighten up, pushing my glasses up my nose. "Well, yes, but I... I..."

"Finally got what was coming to you," she finishes for me, walking over from the piano to my curtain.

I cock my head to one side, my blushing face distorted into both embarrassment and confusion. "What now?"

"You've stayed behind for weeks. You thought I hadn't noticed?"

She does still have her accent... It's so pretty... so... wait... what? "What?"

"I'm not oblivious," she responds, face still lacking emotion. "And you're not good at hiding."

I shrug and give a crooked smile. "Well, yeah. I'm six foot one. It's kinda hard to not get noticed."

I don't know why, but I was hoping my height would impress her. Her expression tells me it most certainly did not. "If you don't mind me asking," she says, pushing a piece of her silky, snowy blonde hair behind her ear. "What, exactly, is your problem?"

"Problem?" I ask aloud, mostly to myself. "I'm not quite sure I'd call it a problem, but..."

"Not your problem, no. My problem, yes," she glares. Her tone sort of hurts. "I don't like being watched. Especially not by egotistical sports fanatics."

"Hey!" I say, my face unwillingly displaying my disappointment. "I just play football. That doesn't automatically make me a fanatic or whatever! And I'm not egotistical, either!" She raises a thin eyebrow at me in question. "O-okay," I cringe. "M-maybe I am. Sort of. But what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, probably," she shrugs, her small shoulders jerking up in a such a quick movement it's barely noticeable. I feel like I'm off the hook, but then she adds, "To most people, that is. To me, everything is wrong with it."

I'm still embarrassed, and now I'm hurting in more places then my head. "Why? I play sports. Is that so bad? You play piano, isn't it the same thing?"

Right away, I regret that statement. Her face finally breaks out of monotony, but what it breaks into is a sarcastic, amused, devilish expression. "Piano and football? Same things, da? Ha!" she laughs, pretty though insulting. "Piano does not involve sweaty men running after an oddly shaped ball and falling over each other."

I don't know what to say, she kinda hit it right on the mark. So I decide to make a joke. "You sure about that?"

To my surprise, she doesn't exactly go back to glaring. Although she has stopped laughing, her face hasn't completely sunk back into her normal expression. She has this weird, little smile on her face. I don't know if it's really a smile, since her lips are just the tiniest bit curled up at the corners, but it's the closest I've seen. "I started lessons before I left home. It's been..." she takes a second to think, looking up at the ceiling of the stage. "Eleven years? No, twelve. Twelve years, and I haven't seen anything like that."

"Well, you must not look hard enough, then," I smile, glad I could somewhat break her out of her shell, even if just for a few minutes.

"No," she says. "Even if such things did exist, I wouldn't be looking for them. I'll stick to my classical, thank you." her expression seems to lighten a bit more, which makes me smile a little bit bigger.

Just then the warning bell rings. "God," I groan. "Thirty fricken' seconds to get to class." I look at her for a second. "Well, bye, I guess." I wave and turn to go, hitting the wall again. "Damn! Okay. Now, bye. I promise."

To my astonishment, she actually giggles. Blushing, I beam and dash down the hall.

~/\~

History class goes by fast, and that's pretty much due to my lack of attention. I can't focus on what we're doing.

_She talked to me! She insulted me! She laughed at me!_

Okay, so not sure why I'm so excited about the 'insulting' part, but I am. Anyhow, I don't even bother to take notice of what we're doing this class-I just sit there and think about her. I actually don't notice how much time has gone by until Gilbert's poking my arm.

"Eh, eh, Alfie! What's up with you now?" he questions as he repeatedly jabs me.

"What's wrong? Did the bell ring or something?" I ask, taking off my glasses and rubbing them with the hem of my shirt to get rid of the smudges.

"The bell? What are you talking about?" he laughs at me. "We got the last few minutes off. Where have you been, Alfred?"

"I talked to her, you know," I say.

"Oh, really!" Gilby's looking at me with the weirdest expression ever. It's actually rather creepy, and I'm not ashamed to say I'm scared. I think anyone would be. "This has to be interesting. Might it have anything to do with the black and blue mark on your forehead, hmm?"

"What?" I exclaim, clutching my forehead and looking up towards it. "No way! It's black and blue? Aw, come on!"

Gilbert falls into what seems like an interminable fit of laughter as, blushing, slam him in the shoulder with my textbook.

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><p><strong>Hey, hey, hey! They talked! They actually communicated!0 Isn't it adorable, just oh so adora-<strong>

**Vlad: Why don't you write yaoi? Yaoi's adorable. Write it.  
><strong>

**I told you. I don't do smut.  
><strong>

**Vlad: BUT I DO AND I'M YOU. NOW WRITE IT, SLAVE.  
><strong>

**Okay, okay! Maybe one day... maybe. Anyway, review and look for chapter four! I'm in a writing kind of mood, so it might even be up in a day or two, who knows. :)  
><strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, guys. Soooo I'M SORRY! This took sooo long to finish... since the last update I had a play, finals, projects, and.. and... x.x **_  
><em>

**On top of that, I started rping Bel on instagram. x.x Which, by the way: belaruslovesyou -follow her maybe? :)  
><strong>

**So, sorry for the wait. Chapter four at your service~**

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><p><em>Beep, beep, beep!<em>

I groan as I roll over in my bed, slamming my dark brown wooden side table multiple times before finally shutting off the alarm on my old clock. I push myself up on my palms, my midnight blue comforter sliding down to my waist, leaving my shirtless torso vulnerable to the cold air of my dark bedroom. I stay in this position for a few seconds, then swing my legs over the side of my bed, sighing groggily._  
><em>

I shuffle slowly to my windows, rubbing my eyes. I take an opaque, black curtain in each hand and fling them open, letting the dim morning sunlight flood my room.

I take a moment and look outside. The trees are bare and plain looking against the white of the early winter sky. I stare at this drab landscape for a few more seconds before turning around and crossing the hardwood floor to my bathroom.

I open the white door and flick on the light, flinching and squinting against the sudden brightness. I turn to my mirror, leaning towards it, putting my weight on the white porcelain sink. It takes a moment for my eyes to register it, but I spot a purple-ish splotch on the top right corner of my forehead. I'm confused for a second until I remember that I had banged my head on the doorway yesterday.

Still staring at my now crinkled-with-worry forehead, I fumble around the surface of the sink for my glasses. I finally manage to locate them and slam them on my face.

_Oh, dear God..._

The tiny black and blue mark from yesterday has turned into a monstrous purple blotch covering almost half of my forehead. I stare at it in horror. How am I supposed to explain _this_? _Oh, my forehead? Yeah, I was staring at a girl and walked into a doorway. _That sounds so lame! Not to mention cliche.

I shake my head and strip out of my boxers, turning on my shower. I lean against the bathroom door as fog fills the small room. _Maybe no one will notice... heh. Yeah, right.__  
><em>

~/\~

I examine my ruined forehead repeatedly in my rear view mirror. The more I look at that damn bruise, the more I want to stay in the truck. Which, at the time, isn't so bad, since I got to school early. I wanted to get out of the house before my mom got up, so she wouldn't question me.

I sigh and slump back in the old, gray, worn out seat, surveying the gravel parking lot. Not many people are here yet, and there's fewer than ten cars scattered throughout the lot, all of them old and used.

I cross my arms and look out in front of me, at the teacher's lot. There are more cars there, but I could tell at least twenty-five percent of the teachers were still missing. I watch one of the teachers get out of her shiny, newer, black car, dragging some over-sized, colorful bag with her, and walk to the school. She's almost at the doors when she waves at someone and-_wait_..

That's Natalya she waved at.

Natalya, sitting cross-legged on the bench by the doors, a black bag at her side, all bundled up in a dark blue pea coat and white scarf.

All alone out there in the cold, early winter chill.

I grab my books from the seat next to me, grinning and jumping enthusiastically out of my truck. I slam the door and almost jog over to her, no doubt with a ridiculous, idiotic look on my face.

I stop a few feet in front of her and wave. "H-Hi, Natalya," I grin at her. My grin disappears quickly after I notice her staring at my forehead with a somewhat smug look on her face. What could she possibly be-

_Awe, fuck, stupid door!_

I feel myself blushing and quickly cover the violet blotch with my hand. "Oh, t-that," I laugh nervously, flustered. "Uh, well, remember y-yesterday when I walked into the door frame? Well, it, uh.. it kinda.. yeah." I stare at the ground, embarrassed.

She starts laughing in a somewhat mean way. "Are you going to tell everyone that _I_ did that to you?" she asks mockingly.

I look at her, a frown reluctantly appearing on my face, which seems to be getting impossibly more red. "I-it wasn't you, though! Why would-"

"Technically, it _was_ me, da," she gets up and walks over to me, standing with her arms crossed, almost ten inches below me. She tilts her head back, looking up at me with a smirk. "After all, _I_ was the one you were staring at, yes?"

I pout and look away from her, crossing my arms like she did. "I wasn't staring," I mumble.

"Oh, really?" she laughs again. Such a pretty sound, even with that tinge of nastiness in it. "What were you doing, then?"

I look at her, an embarrassed, crooked smile appearing on my face. "Watching."

She smirks back at me. "Nyet. Stalking."

"I-I wasn't stalking you!" I almost flail, but an amused, skeptical expression complete with a raised eyebrow on her face makes me stand still. "O-okay, maybe I was, but..."

"Isn't that illegal, stalking?" she asks, taking a step closer to me, that smug look still on her face.

I blush at the closeness-she's less that a foot away from me now. "W-well, I wasn't hardcore stalking you..."

She smirks at me and points at my forehead, almost touching it. "Does it hurt?"

"Y-yes, yes, it do-OW!" I'm interrupted by her poking-no, jabbing-my forehead. Half of me hurts and the other half is in heaven.

She crosses her arms again. "So it does," she laughs.

"A-are you a freaking sadist or something?" I question her. I see other students walking towards the doors and I lower my voice, not wanting anyone to get in on my conversation. Speaking of getting in on the conversation, where is-

"Oh, Alfie! What do we have here?"

_Hell._

Gilbert walks up behind me, slamming my back hard with his hand, grinning at me. "What's this?" he asked mockingly.

"Gilby, go away," I snap at him, glaring. He just laughs his annoying laugh and extends his hand out towards Natalya, who is watching us, amused.

"Guten tag. I am Gilbert. And my best friend Alfie here is head over heels in love with you," he says matter-of-factly.

I stare at him, wide-eyed and mouth hanging open. Did he really just-awe, my face. It's hot. Really, really hot. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-

"I can tell," Natalya's smirking and shaking his hand.

_What_? Am I really such an open book?

... wait. Don't answer that.

Gilbert laughs again and smirks at me. "I'll leave you two love birds alone, yes?" he teases and jogs off through the doors before I can slap him.

I'm left there alone, blushing and annoyed, with Natalya staring at me with a weird, sadistic, amused look. "I-I'm sorry," I mutter, embarrassed and staring at the ground. "Sorry..."

"For what?" she asks mockingly, the look not leaving her face. "For being in _love_ with me?"

I look at her, a little hurt by her tone. She just stares back at me with that damn look. "Sorry," I mutter again, then rush off through the doors.

I'm not sure if I heard right, but I think I heard her say, in a slightly nicer voice, "Don't be."

* * *

><p><strong>WHEE~! Sorry it took so long. x.x SORRY SORRY SORRY! I would promise to get the next up faster but I did that before and it still took me forever to get the next chapter up, so I won't do that. <strong>

**Again, sorry for the wait. Please review and look for chapter five! :)  
><strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**I should be updating more, now that's it's summer. Sooo...  
><strong>

**Vlad: She stays home all day. Doesn't do anything. She's lazy.  
><strong>

**Yeah, pretty much. I chase my chickens around. Play piano. Be a slave to my iPod. So yeah.  
><strong>

**Chapter 5~ :3  
><strong>

**I don't own Hetalia. Although I wish Hidekaz Himaruya was my dad. Because that would be awesome.  
><strong>

**Okay, NOW Chapter 5:)  
><strong>

* * *

><p><em>Damn Gilbert. Damn him. Damn his mouth. Damn my life. Damn everything.<br>_

By the time my lunch period rolls around, I'm fuming at Gilbert. Somehow, he skipped our history class, so I didn't get to strangle him then. He's lucky, because I really would have. Especially since I have that class right after chorus.

Chorus was horrible, by the way. It wasn't an out of the ordinary class, except for Natalya looking at me all smug-like every few minutes, acting like she has something over me...

Oh, wait. She does have something over me... but still. She's nastier than I thought. Yet I like her no less than I did before.

I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the thoughts of her and her face and of Gil-

"Ay, Alfie!"

_Gilbert_.

I whip around to see him sauntering all Gilby-like over to me, waving like an idiot with one hand while he runs the other through his albino hair. I glare at him but he doesn't seem to notice.

"How are the love birds doing?"

"Shut up."

He looks at me with a half-amused, half-confused face. "Did something happen?" he cocks his head.

"Yeah," I snap, the corner of my mouth twitching slightly. "You."

He walks next to me into the cafeteria. "Me? What did I do wrong?"

I slam my books onto our table, sitting down. I don't feel like eating today. I was hoping avoiding the lunch line would rid me of Gilbert for a little while, but he seems to have taken interest in my anger towards him. He sits down across from me, watching me skeptically.

I just stare at him. "You asshole."

He smirks back at me. "I helped."

"_Helped_?" I resist the urge to reach across the short distance and slap him. "You told her I was in love with her, how is that helping? I never even said I loved her!"

"Never said it, but showed it," he puts his elbows on the table, resting his chin in his hands, looking at me with those oddly colored eyes and that damned smug face. "Plus, she said she could tell. So I just confirmed her suspicions."

My mouth twitches again. "Her suspicions didn't need to be confirmed."

"Oh, Alfie," he laughs at me. "Do you really pay that much attention to her?"

My eyebrows scrunch in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"She talked to you this morning," he says, as if it was supposed to be obvious.

I nod. "Yes. Yes, she did," I respond, speaking to him like he's a kindergartener.

He rolls his eyes at me. "She would have ignored someone else."

"How would you know?" I counter quickly, although inside I'm pretty happy about that.

"She doesn't just talk to people," he shrugs. "She must have taken a liking to you. She even touched you," he smirks at me. "And you freaked like a cat getting sprayed with water."

"Y-you saw that?" I blush, then mumble, "I only freaked because it freaking hurt..."

He chuckles. "Anywhore-"

I raise my eyebrow. "Any... whore?"

He waves me off. "Yeah, it's my new word. But as I was saying, I think she might like you. I know you haven't talked to her much, but you have a little. Very few people do that. You show her affection, too. Any other guy in this school would never do that."

I blush a little a cock my head to the side. "Why not?"

He stares at my like I'm an idiot. "Because she's a stone cold-"

"Alfred, what's with the head?"

I turn around to see Antonio, a friend from the football team. He sits next to me and points at my forehead. "It's a little discolored, si?"

I avoid his eyes and blush. "I... I walked into a doorway-"

"Because he was staring at a girl!" Gilbert interjects, laughing.

Antonio laughs, too. "A girl? Who?"

I glare at Gilbert, then at Antonio. "No o-"

"That Natalya Arlovskaya girl. The one who plays piano," Gilbert answers for me.

Antonio raises an eyebrow at me while I death stare at Gilbert. "If you don't mind me asking... _why_?"

"I-I don't know," I shrug. _Because she's pretty. And talented. And has an accent. And-_

"Oh, Anty," Gilby chuckles. "That's not all. She might like him, too."

Antonio's eyes widen quite visibly. "She? Like? _Him_?" he laughs. "No!"

Gilbert nods. "I don't know how he did it."

My mouth twitches. Why are they carrying on this conversation like I'm not here? Did they forget about me? In my anger and annoyance, I grab my books and storm out of the cafeteria, avoiding the watchful gaze of any teachers. I don't even think they noticed me leave.

I walk fast and angrily down the hallway, towards the auditorium. I was planning on waking straight past, but I heard the piano.

I stop outside the stage entrance and see Natalya. Playing, of course. Without thinking, I walk onto the stage and stand behind the curtain.

"Alfred," she says almost instantly. I jump.

"Uh, h-hi," I walk out from behind the curtain and over to the piano, blushing.

"Why do you keep hiding back there?" she asks me nonchalantly, staring ahead at the piano as she continues to play. "I already told you, I know you do that."

"W-well, uh, you see..." I rub the back of my head, smiling and chuckling nervously. "Uh.. I'm sorry. About hiding. And about Gilbert. Again."

"Why are you sorry about _him_?" she stops playing and turns to face me on the bench, pulling her legs up onto it and sitting cross-legged. She motions for me to sit down on the risers behind me, and I sit do on the second one.

"He... interrupted our conversation. And said things," I blush, shrugging.

She laughs and looks at me like she did earlier in chorus. "You're mad because he told me you _love_ me."

"I, uh..." I blush deeper and stare at my feet. "Well, yeah. And I-I don't love you. Wait, no! I mean... I mean it's not that I don't love you, but it's not like I do, but, uh..." _Dammit, what the hell am I doing?_

She stares at me for a few seconds, then points at my head. "A piece of your hair is sticking up."

I look up towards my hair, even though I know I can't see it. "Oh, that?" I chuckle anxiously, reaching up and tugging slightly at that little piece of hair. "It's always like that. It won't stay down."

She stares at it. "It annoys me."

"I-I'm sorry," I laugh a little. "I can't fix that."

She scrunches her eyebrows at me and moves to the edge of the bench, putting her small, pale bare feet on the stage floor and leaning towards me. "Why do you keep apologizing to me?"

"I-I don't know," I shrug. "Sor-"

"Alfred, stop it," she snaps. "It's annoying. Besides, there isn't anything for you to apologize for."

I smile crookedly at her. "Does everything about me annoy you?"

"More than you know," she glares at me.

"Oh?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at her. She ignores me and turns back to the piano.

I feel as if that "more than you know" took away my anxiety. I feel more outgoing and happy. I'm not even mad at Gilby anymore. I get up and sit next to her on the bench. She glares at me and scoots to the other side. "What are you doing?" she hisses.

I shrug. "Sitting next to you. Problem?"

"Yes!" she snaps. She keeps glaring at me with her beautiful, seductive eyes while I just stare back with my bland, stupid ones. Eventually, she sighs and moves back to the middle of the bench, with what seems like a slight blush appearing on her pale white cheeks. Keeping our thighs from touching, she begins to play the piano softly again. "But seeing as you're not moving..."

I smile and nod. "Nope. Not moving."

She plays and I watch. I'm amazed at how she can do this, not watch her hands, memorize all of this. How do her hands know where to go? How does she match up the notes on the page to the keys? It confuses me.

I must've been staring at her, because she stops playing and looks at me. "Alfred."

I blush. "Y-yes?"

She stares at my hair again and tugs on it. "This still annoys me," she smiles a little.

"I'm sorry," I smile crookedly at her. She pretend-glares at me for a second, then goes back to smiling.

She stares at me for a second or two, then goes back to playing. She only plays what seems like a measure or two before she feels me still watching her and stares again.

This is weird. I don't know what to do. It kinda feels like a movie. I feel like nothing else is there, just me and her. I feel like I can't her anything. I feel like I can't see anything else. Why? What am I supposed to do? I don't-

Oh. I guess I do know, because I lean in and kiss her.

A few seconds go by and she isn't kissing me back. I almost start freaking out, but then I realize she hasn't pulled away from me. That's good, isn't it?

And somewhere within my little panic attack, she starts kissing me back.

_Kissing me back_.

This is even more weird. I can't exactly explain it. I've kissed girls before, but this is different. I'm not sure how, but it is. Really different. But it feels nice. And happy. And wonderful. It feels like everything good in the world.

Okay, I sound like one of those sappy sitcoms.

We kiss for a few seconds more and pull away from each other at what seems the same time. I'm smiling like an idiot at her, but she has her head turned away from me. It's not turned enough to prevent me from seeing how rosy pink her cheeks are, though.

The bell rings, signaling the end of my lunch, notifying students to get to eighth period. She stands up quickly and starts to walk away, but I reach out, taking her hand and stopping her.

She glares at me. "Let go."

I don't and stand up from the bench. "There's only two periods left."

She tries to yank her hand away from mine. "So?"

I smile at her. "Wanna skip with me?"

"Skip, da?" she stares blankly at me, then at the ground. "I've skipped classes, but not actual school..."

I gesture to the hallway. "Hurry up and decide. You need to get your stuff and get back her before the bell rings."

She sighs. "My stuff is in here," she says a few seconds later, yanking her hand away from mine. She walks to the back of the stage, disappearing into the prop room and coming back out quickly with her things. She sets her bag on the risers and hastily starts wrapping her scarf around her neck. "Don't you need your things?"

I pick up my books and gesture to the gray sweatshirt I'm wearing. "I have all I need."

She buttons up her coat and picks up her bag. The warning bell hasn't even rung yet. "Where are you dragging me off to?"

I smile at her and hold out my hand for hers. "A place."

She rolls her eyes and sighs, taking my hand. "Whatever."

I pull her off to the opposite side of the stage, to the doors leading to the outside, all smiley and giddy.

I have to remind myself to thank Gilby and Antonio for making me mad.

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><p><strong>YOU GUYS I UPDATED SO FAST THIS TIME <strong>**xDDD**

**I'm proud of this chapter. Don't know why, but I am.  
><strong>

**Thanks for reading!~ Review and look for chapter 6! :)  
><strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**SORRY SORRY SORRY IT TOOK LONG TO UPDATE**

**This chapter's a little short... oh well.**

**I don't own Hetalia. WHY**

**Read and review, thank you! ^_^**

* * *

><p>"Nice car," Natalya snorts as I pull her towards the passenger side of my beat up white truck.<p>

"Don't make fun of Sandy," I pout.

"... Sandy? You _named _it? How pathetic," she chuckles as I open the door. "Uh..."

"What's wrong...?" I tilt my head to the side. _Please don't have second thoughts, please don't have second thoughts..._

_"_There is quite a height difference between the ground and your car..," she frowns.

Oops. Forgot about that. "Here, I'll help you!" Without waiting for a response, I wrap my hands around her waist and go to pick her up.

"GAH!" she shrieks. And kicks.

"OW!" I almost drop her back to the ground. She's stronger than she looks, and she just kicked... a place. "What the hell, Natalya?!"

"Don't touch me!" She hastily jumps up into the car. "Not without my permission!"

"You hurt," I whimper and make my way as fast as I can to my side of the car, wincing as I climb in. "Damn, girl. You have some strength in those legs."

"My family had a farm before we moved," she mutters, staring out the window as I start the car.

"Oh..," I nod. As soon as Sandy's all ready to go, I slam on the gas and get out of there before any teachers can come out to see what's making that awful grumbling sound.

"Dear God," Natalya stares forward, wide-eyed. "Who taught you how to drive?!"

I sigh. "Nag. Nag, nag, nag. That's all I hear."

"Then stop and let me out of the fucking car."

I snort and mumble, "Curse words sound nice coming out of such a pretty mouth."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Hmm," she stares at me, crossing her arms and yet again shooting me that look from chorus. "One kiss and you can say whatever you want without blushing or stuttering."

"Is it a problem?" I look sideways at her.

"Well, nyet," she shrugs. "At least you're not apologizing every three seconds anymore."

I smile crookedly. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, stop it," she tries to keep a straight face, but I can see her lips curl up the tiniest bit. "Where are we going?"

"My house."

"Oh..," Now she's frowning. This causes me to frown, too.

"What's wrong?" I ask, eyebrows wrinkling in a worried line.

"I don't assume your house to be... rather romantic," she sighs. "But I don't know if men think like that. Men besides my brother, anyway."

"Excuse me, my house can too be romantic! My mother has candles. And wine," I grin. "And your brother, romantic? Not from what I heard..."

She sighs, a frustrated look crossing her face. "People get the wrong impressions of brother... he can be very kind. And sweet, da," she smiles slightly, a distant look in her eyes, as if she's remembering something. "If he wasn't my brother, I swear I'd fall in love with him."

I feel something in my stomach. Like it's hollow or something...

Hold up. Did I seriously just get jealous over Natalya saying she'd fall in love with her _brother_? Man, I have problems.

"Anyway," she frowns again. "i don't know what you're thinking about with this candles and wine thing, but no."

"No?" I tilt my head to the side, confused. "What do you mean...?"

"Let's go to my house. Turn around."

"But-"

"Alfred, turn this damn car around right now."

"Yes, my majesty."

~(^_^)~

"Turn here," Natalya says, pointing towards what seems like a very long, yet well-kept driveway.

I follow her command. "How long is this thing...?"

She shrugs and twirls a piece of her hair around her finger, gazing out the window at the dense forest surrounding the dirt driveway. "I don't know. Two, three miles?"

"Hold crap," I respond, my eyes widening. "Secluded, aren't we?"

"We're not big fans of people."

I chuckle. "Like I couldn't tell."

"You know," she frowns. "I _could _have you just drop me off and leave. I don't _need _to invite you inside..."

I groan. "Fine, I'll stop, I'll stop."

She nods and we spend the next mile or so in silence.

~(^ ^)~

"Hell," I whistle. "Your house is huge."

I take the key out of my truck's ignition and stare at the huge yellow building in front of me. It's beautiful and antique looking, but _damn_, it's big.

She shrugs, something she seems to do a lot. "We have some money," she opens her to door to jump out. I do th same.

"Some?" I walk over to her.

"Maybe millions," she shrugs again.

"I thought you owned a farm in... in...," I follow her up the surprisingly not creaky steps.

"Russia. Not that far outside of Moscow," she responds. "And we did-but we inherited it from relatives."

"O-oh," I nod.

I watch as she simply walks up to the huge white door and open it without unlocking it. "No keys?" I ask, curious.

"My sister's home," she walks in and throws her bag to the side, and I follow, a little panicked.

"Your sister...?" I question, worried. "Isn't she in college? Won't she be mad about a boy in you house?"

"She's on winter break," Natalya takes her coat off and repeats what she did with her bag. She motions for me to do the same, but I remain static. "Plus, she knows about you already."

"S-she knows about me?!" I exclaim more than ask, following Natalya yet again. "But how?!"

"I told her," she flips around to face me, putting her hands on her small hips and tilting her head up towards me.

"But why-" Before I can finish, I'm interrupted by a woman's voice even more heavily accented than Natalya's.

"Sestra, home so early?"

Natalya turns around. "Da," she nods as the source of the voice appears.

And, based on what I've heard about her sister's... anatomy, that is definitely her.

"Oh, who's this...?" her sister tilts her head at me. "Is this that Alfred you were-"

"Sestra," Natalya says quickly. She moves towards her and starts mumbling in a language I can't understand. It makes me feel really awkward and left out, standing there and watching her and her sister talking about, most likely, me in Russian or whatever it is.

"Ahhh," Natalya's sister finally looks back at me, smiling. She's taller than Natalya, by three inches at the least, yet still shorter than me. "Privet, Alfred. Welcome," she extends her hand. She's so much nicer than Natalya... "I am Katyusha."

I take her pale hand and shake it. "Hello, Katyusha. I'm-well, apparently you already know me," I shoot a sideways glance at Natalya, and she glares back in response.

"Oh, yes," Katyusha giggles, a light and charming sound. "I've heard a lot about you. A lot of nice things."

"Sestra!" Natalya spits, glaring daggers through her older sibling.

Katyusha just shakes her head at her. "Oh, please, Natty, as if he doesn't-"

And before I can hear what Katyusha was going to say, Natalya takes my hand and drags me forcefully past her sister and up the stairs.

Well, this is going well...

I think.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey, well, there's Katyusha... Ivan will be there soon...<strong>

**Vlad: OOOH, THEY'RE GOING UPSTAIRS.**

**Shh. Just because they're going upstairs doesn't mean they'll do anything.**

**Vlad: Sigh.**

**Anyhow, review. PLEASE?! :) And sorry for the long wait.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Oh, my, I haven't updated since October 2012. **

**Vlad: Niiice going.**

**Shhh. Anyway, here's chapter seven. I might not be too great, because I'm sick. -.- But here it is.**

**I don't own Hetalia. Waaaah.**

* * *

><p>Natalya hastily pulls me down a long, bright hallway before turning left down a shorter, darker one with a single wooden door at the end of it. She's so small and moves so fast, but I have no trouble keeping up with her.<p>

She pushes open the door and drags me inside, slamming it behind her.

"Won't your sister be mad about me being in your room...?" I stand in the middle of a surprisingly unorganized room. It's bigger than mine, but there's books and boxes everywhere.

"Nyet," Natalya responds, not bothering to look at me. She's taking things out of her school bag and laying them on what I assume to be her desk. However, I can only assume-it's so cluttered, it could just be another pile of stuff.

"What about your parents...?" I wrinkle my eyebrows.

She stops what she's doing and turns her head to the left, looking at the floor instead of me.

"I don't have any."

"What?" I tilt my head in confusion.

"My step-mom and father both died before I turned one," she mumbles, going back to removing things out of her bag.

"O-oh..," I force out so quietly it can barely be heard. Well, no more questions on that subject.

She finishes what she was doing at her desk and tosses her still somewhat full bag a few feet short of the end of her unmade bed, which she goes to and sits down cross-legged on. She pats the bed, motioning me to come sit next to her. I gladly oblige.

But I forget about her damn bag.

I trip over it. I fall forward and, luckily, catch myself on my forearms, to avoid crushing her.

That doesn't change the fact, however, that I'm still straddling her on her bed.

"Uhh..," I blush while she starts to laugh at me. "I'll mo-"

"Natalya?" A voice sounds not to far from her door. That's not her sister.

"Shit!" Natalya's eyes widen as she spits out the curse under her breath.

"Kat said you brought your friend over," the man's voice says. It can't be her father... he's dead...

"Move, move, move!" Nat tries to push me off her, but I'm too busy trying to figure out who that voice belongs to to notice.

"So I would like to meet him," the door opens, and Natalya's brother stands in the doorway.

Aaaaand that's who the voice belongs to.

...

...

_Oh, shit._

"Ahem," Ivan says, his voice a little bit less kind now. His unnaturally violet eyes narrow at me every so slightly. "Would you like to explain what you are doing to my fourteen-year-old sister?"

"I-I just fell," I say, frozen, my eyes wide and frightened. The fact that Natty's eyes display a hint of fear doesn't help me, either.

"I see," he responds, almost in a sarcastic tone. He steps inside the room, having to duck his head a little to get through the doorway. "And would you terribly mind getting off of her before I get you off myself?"

I spring up off the bed, holding my hands up defensively. "I swear, man," I say quickly. "I fell. I wasn't trying to do anything."

He just stares at me. It makes me feel rather uncomfortable.

As he continues to stare at me, Natalya jumps up to my side. "Brother," she pleads in whiny voice, almost like one that a kid might use to get their mom to buy them candy at the grocery store. So much more innocent than I'm used to. "Really, he just fell. He is not used to my room, with it being so unkempt, da."

Is it me, or does she seem to have more of an accent when her brother's around? Maybe I should trip more often...

Ivan has yet to display any emotion. She goes up to him and starts mumbling in that foreign language again. I just watch and listen, mostly to her.

This conversation lasts much longer than the one with Katyusha. It makes me feel more awkward, too-there's a lot of gestures made towards me, and I could hear my name amid the words I didn't understand, too. At some points, their private talk sounded like they were about to start yelling at each other.

After a very, _very _long six minutes, Ivan sighs, and Natalya smiles triumphantly. After a few seconds, Ivan's face turns soft again. He gives me a creepy smile and extends his hand.

"Sorry for the misunderstanding," he says as I hesitantly shake his hand. "Welcome to the family, da?"

"Uhh, o-okay," I nod, really not sure how to respond to the sudden change in his emotion towards me.m "W-wait," I say as he releases my hand. "Welcome... to the family?" I tilt my head, confused.

"Of course," Ivan's still smiling in a way that almost makes me want to run. "You are my little sister's boyfriend, nyet?"

"I-I," I stutter, my face turning red. I look at Natalya, my mouth hanging open slightly. She nods at me, signaling for me to say yes.

"Oh, yeah," I grin. "I am."

Ivan nods. "Well, I will let you two go. Again, sorry about the misunderstanding. Natalya," he turns to leave the room. "Why don't you take Alfred downstairs and play for him?" He walks away without waiting for a response.

I turn to her, smiling excitedly. "I'm your boyfriend?!" Oops. I think that may have sounded a little too enthusiastic.

"Nyet," she waves her hand at me dismissively. I feel my stomach plummet to my feet. "Not yet, anyway. I just needed to tell him that so he wouldn't kill you," she smirks at me, probably delighted at my disappointment.

"O-oh..," I frown, staring at her bedroom floor, sadness evident in my voice.

"Alfred," she touches my arm, talking quietly and nicer than she has to me before. "I said not yet, da?"

I smile down at her and nod. "Yes, you did."

"Good," she smiles back up at me. "Come on," she pulls me with her. "Let's go down before he thinks something is going on again. I don't have to play for you, though. You've heard quite enough of me, I suppose."

"Nope," I grin, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose. "I never get tired of you."

* * *

><p><strong>I gave ya'll your Ivan.<strong>

**I'll be finishing this within the next few chapters. I don't want it to have more than fifteen, heheh.**

**So, review! And, considering I have no after-school practices right now, the next chapter might be up faster! But, no promises-as you know, my update time varies greatly. Heh.**

**Thanks for reading! Again, please review! ^^**


	8. Chapter 8

**I HAVEN'T UPDATED THIS IN SO LONG. Well, here's the update. Heheh. Actually, I _will _be updating this as fast as possible for the next chapter, because, after over a year, I have decided that I need to end this (*sob*). But yes. So enjoy the 8th (and next to last-sob) chapter!**

* * *

><p>Natalya and I have been sitting on her piano bench, happily uninterrupted by her family members. She's played a few things, but now she just strikes random chords while I watch.<p>

"My favorite composer to play is Mozart," she says. "You probably don't-"

"Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart," I interject. "I know him."

"Really?" Natalya looks up at me, scrutinizing.

I nod. "We watched _Amadeus_ in my music history class when I was in eighth grade."

"Ah," she chuckles. "That movie is very.. true to the times."

I blink. "Wait. So girls in Germany really walked around showing that much cleavage?"

Nat glares up at me, crossing her arms. "They were in _Austria_. Did you not pay attention to that movie at all?"

I laugh a little, running my hand through my hair. "I was in eighth grade and I was starting to go through changes. No, I did not pay attention to what country they were in."

She rolls her eyes, narrowing them at me playfully. "Stupid boy."

"Hey!" I grin crookedly, narrowing my eyes back at her. "I'm not stupid."

"Da, you are."

"Am not!"

"Oh, Alfred," she shakes her head. "You want to be my boyfriend? Then learn one thing: I'm always right."

"You're right."

"Good job," she smiles up at me. I smile back and lean in and-

"Alfred?"

I jump a bit. Natalya and I both turn around.

"Hi, Ivan," I manage, waving awkwardly.

"Privet," he waves back. "I was just checking up on you two."

"Brother..," Natalya hisses.

"Da, sestra, da," Ivan sighs. "I won't bother you again." And with that, he just leaves.

I stop myself from shruddering. "No offense, Nat, but your brother freaks me out."

"None taken," she shrugs. "He does that to most people."

I nod, then inhale, turning to her. "Well, I believe we left off somewhere-"

Natalya shields her face with her hand. "He can sense it, Alfred."

"Ahh," I grin. "So you want to go to my house then?"

"_Alfred_!" she slaps my arm hard-she's strong. _Really_ strong.

"Ow!" I wince. "I'm sorry!"

"Well," she stands up. "It's getting late. I suppose you should get going."

I sigh, also pushing myself off the bench. "Look, Natty. I didn't mean to-"

"We'll go to your house tomorrow," she grins.

* * *

><p>So, the next day, I waited for Nat outside of school. Or tried to.<p>

"Alfred, what are you doing...?" Gilbert asks when I stop walking just outside the school doors. I hadn't told him what happened with Natalya yesterday, so he didn't know we were going to be together today.

"Waiting," I respond.

He stares at me, dumbfounded. "For...?"

I sigh. "Natalya."

Gilbert does his eye brow wiggle thing, which is weird when normal people do it. So it's, like, a thousand times weirder when he does it. "Oooh! And might I ask where the two love birds are going?"

I roll my eyes. "My house."

"You're going to do _that_?! Already?!" Gilbert gasps dramatically.

"What? Gilbert, no!" I go to hit him.

"What are you going to do, exactly?" Natalya walks up behind us. I flip around, grinning nervously.

"Oh, nothing," I shake my head, chuckling. "Nothing."

"I was just teasing him," Gilbert laughs.

"Well, can you tease him later?" Nat smiles at Gilbert. "We have a date, I believe."

"Ahh, ja, ja. Of course," Gilby grins back at her. Jeez, he's being really nice to me today. I wonder why he hasn't embarrassed me yet?

"See you two later. Oh, ja, and get some, Alfie!"

Aaaand there it is.

I look down at Nat. "I'm sorry."

She nods. "Yeah, you aren't getting anything."

"I know. Let's go."

* * *

><p>"Your house is so... public."<p>

I snort. "Sorry that it's located on an actual street. Not all of us can afford a huge mansion."

"Sorry. I'm just not used to it..."

"Well," I unlock my house's blue door and shove the spare key back under the welcome mat. "It's what we can afford. What my mom can afford, that is." I hold the door open for Natalya. "My father left and took my brother with him when I was, like, four. They're in Canada or France or something now."

"I'm sorry."

I walk inside behind her, close the door, and turn to her, smiling. "There's an awful lot of being sorry going on today. I don't approve."

"And why do you have to approve?"

"It's my house, that's why."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

I shake my head at her, smiling. "I don't exactly have a piano here, so I don't know what we're supposed to do."

"I do more than play piano," she scoffs, walking towards my mother's huge CD collection.

"Yeah, sure," I respond sarcastically. "Like what?"

"Frank Sinatra, da?"

I chuckle. "You do Frank Sinatra? Isn't he dead or something?"

"Oh, shut up, you pervert. Nyet," she glares, holding a CD out towards me. "I mean, you listen to Frank Sinatra?"

"Well, yes, but only because my mom does," I shrug. "She says his music is some of the only good American music."

"She's not American?" Natalya asks distractedly, examining the CD.

I shake my head. "British. My dad was French."

"Ah," she nods slowly, still not paying that much attention and still examining.

A few seconds or so go buy. Then...

"_Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away_."

I grin. Nat has a really good voice, and it's surprisingly fit for a Sinatra song. "This one's my favorite," I say, then sing: "_If you can use some exotic booze_-"

"-_t__here's a bar in far Bombay_."

I walk over to Nat and take her hands in mine. I'm no good with dancing, but, when I was little, my mom danced with me like this. "_Come fly with me, let's_ _fly, let's fly_ _away_," I sing as I spin her around.

Nat laughs a little, intwining her fingers with mine. "_Come fly with me, let's_ _float down_ _to Peru_."

"_In llama land, there's a one_ _man band, and he'll_ _toot his flute for you_," I dip her over, then spin her back up.

She smiles at me, giggling (if Natalya can even do such a thing). "_Come on, fly with_ _me. Let's take off in the blue_."

And we dance. We just sing and dance, in my living room, in our own little world. We don't need music; we make our own, in our heads. It's beautiful and fun and I never imagined a scene from a chick flick would feel this good.

"_Pack up, let's fly away_," Natalya sings the last line of the song.

I remember the spoken line at the end of the track: "And don't tell your mama."

And that's how we end. My arms are around her and she's leaning into my chest, the top of her head not quite reaching my chin.

This would be a perfect time for me to ask her to go out with me. She's in such a good mood, and it's romantic; she couldn't say no.

Alright, I'm gonna do it. Here goes-

"I'm home, Alfr-oh. I didn't know you were having friends over!"

I groan. "Mom!"

"Why didn't you tell me you were having a friend over?" my mother asks, moving towards us. Natalya and I awkwardly tear apart our embrace.

"Mom," I sigh. "Natalya, this is my mom. Call her Alice."

"Alfred," my mom scolds in her British accent.

I groan again. "Call her Ms. Kirkland. Mother, this is Natalya Arlovskaya."

Natalya extends her hand, "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Kirkland."

"Same to you, darling," my mom says, shaking her hand. Then she adds, "You're Russian?"

"_Mom_!"

Natalya smiles and nods. "Half, da. My father was Russian and my mother was Belarusian."

"Ahh," my mom chuckles. Then, she starts talking in the same language Natalya and her family were talking in yesterday.

Natalya laughs at whatever my mom says, while I exclaim, "Mom! What the hell?!" I didn't know she could speak Russian!

"Watch your mouth, young man!" she slaps my arm. Although she's only an inch or so taller than Nat, she's a lot stronger. She turns her attention back to Natalya.

"I came to America to work for the CIA back in the seventies," she tells her. "I was heavily involved in the Cold War."

"Oh, really?" Natalya's face lights up. At least her and my mom are hitting it off.

My mother nods. Oh, hell. Her face is in conversation mode.

"Natalya and I are gonna go upstairs now, 'kay?" I interject hurriedly, before they get into a discussion about spies, pulling on Natalya's arm.

"Hold on a second," my mother stops us. "I'm not sure I like you bringing a girl into your bedroom."

"Oh, my God, mom!"

Looking back and forth from my horrified expression to Nat's amused one, my mom sighs. "Fine."

Relieved, I exhale, dragging Natalya forcefully into the hallway that leads to the stairs.

"Oh, and Alfred?" my mom calls after us.

Reluctantly, I stop walking. "What do you want, mother?" I question, annoyed.

"If you do end up having sex, do use a condom. I'm not cleaning the sheets."

"_MOM_!" I can feel my face shoot through about seventeen shades of red. I almost lift Nat off the floor in order to get her upstairs faster. Instead, I drag her along at a running pace.

I can her my mother's perky, light British laugh float up the stairs behind us. "Try to last longer than you do when you're by yourself!" she yells after us.

Groaning in embarrassment, I bolt the rest of the way up the stairs, flinging Natalya into my room and slamming the door behind us. She bursts out laughing right away, falling down onto my bed.

I lean back against my door, crossing my arms and pouting. "She's trying to ruin my life, I swear to God. I want to throw something at her."

"Aw, Alfred," Nat manages between laughs. "She's sweet. Just... a little open, da."

"She's embarrassing," I go and sit next to her.

"Even if she is, she worked for the CIA. Which makes her that much cooler than you," she teases, lightly poking my shoulder.

"You know I didn't even know she could speak Russian until just now?" I shake my head in disbelief. "That brings her total languages to..," I count on my fingers. "Five. English, Spanish, French, Arabic, and Russian."

"How intriguing," Natalya nods. "She's very..," she pauses to giggle a bit. "... attentive to you, isn't she?"

I hang my face in my hands. "Don't remind me," I growl.

"Da, da. But, I have to ask," she stifles laughter. "Do you really get through with jacking off that fast?"

If my face wasn't already hidden, it definitely would be now. "I'm going to kill that woman," I spit, then mumble, "... I didn't think so."

Nat breaks into another giggle fit, laying back on my bed. I lay back next to her, trying to pout but smiling instead. "Don't laugh at me," I insist halfheartedly.

She turns on her side to face me. "But you're so laughable."

I snort. "Thanks. How poetic."

We just lay there. For how long, I can't say for sure. Then, she leans up against me and kisses me.

So we lay there and kiss. For a long time. We kiss for so long that Natalya pulls away and tells me that she needs to go, it's getting dark.

I make a noise in response, shaking my head and pulling her back into me. She smiles slightly and pushes me away.

"I know, I know," she says. "But I really have to leave."

Sighing sadly, I push myself up. "Okay. Let's go."

* * *

><p>As we drive to Natalya's house, the sun sets. The sky-painted pink, orange, and yellow-made the ride somewhat romantic, but not romantic enough for me to attempt to ask her out again. Which sucks, because I'm dying to.<p>

We get to the end of her incredibly long driveway. I switch off my truck's engine, and the cab goes silent.

After a second or so, Nat sighs. "Well, goodnight," she goes to open her door.

"Oh! Wait. Wait!" I stop her. I get out of the truck, shut my door, head over to the passenger side, and open hers for her.

"I forgot my manners for a few seconds there," I grin crookedly at her.

She stares at me, a small smile on her lips.

"What?" I tilt my head to the side.

She shakes her head. "Nothing," she smiles. "Just your face."

I laugh a little. "What's wrong with it?"

"Besides the black and blue mark I inflicted?" she pokes said mark, giggling when I wince. "Nothing at all."

I take the hand she used to poke me in mine. "Well," I sigh. "Today... I had fun."

"Me, too," she nods. After a pause, she adds, "Can I ask you something?"

My heartbeat quickens. Maybe she'll ask me out...? Oh, Lord, I hope so... "Sure."

"Can you pick me up tomorrow morning?"

I can feel my face fall slightly. But, hey-at least she's furthering the interaction. "Of course," I nod.

"Good," she smiles. "I don't have much experience here, but I assume that's what a boyfriend does for his girlfriend."

I pause, taking what she said in. Then, my eyes widen. "Seriously?! I'm your-?!"

She nods, smiling widely at me.

I grin like an idiot. I take her face in both my hands and go to kiss her, pausing before I do. "Oh, yeah. Your brother."

"He left on a business trip this morning."

"Ooh, yay," I mumble quickly before pressing my lips to hers.

I guess I get a little too into it, because Natalya makes a noise in the back of her throat, pushing me away immediately after. "Oh, my, Alfred. My sister's still in there, you know."

My face reddens. I smile sheepishly. "Sorry."

She nods and laughs a little. "It's fine," she says. Then extends her arms towards me. "Help me down?"

I lift her out of the truck, lightly setting her down in front of me. We smile at each other.

"Goodnight, Alfred," she squeezes my hand.

"Goodnight," I give her a quick hug.

She goes to walk away, but I stop her.

"Sorry, but..," I bite my lip. Do I really wanna know...? Yeah. Yeah, I do. "What, exactly, did my mom say to you earlier?"

She stops herself from laughing. "Oh, nothing," she grins. "Nothing at all."

"But-"

She's already at the door."Goodnight, Alfred," she blows a kiss in my direction before going inside, leaving me alone in the dark.

"Goodnight, Natty," I grin.

I get into my truck and start driving away.

And, when I'm far enough away, I squeal like a little girl.

* * *

><p><strong>So there<strong> **it is! Sorry for mistakes-the** **majority of this was written** **on my iPod**. **But I** **finished it!**

**Keep a look out for the next (and final-cry) chapter. Also, review! I love reviews! Thanks for reading! *blows you a kiss***

**Sorry. That was awkward. Heheh. XD**


	9. Chapter 9

**LAST CHAPTER GAHHHHH! Well, here it is. See, I said I would update fast. _Really fast. _Sigh. I'ma miss this story. It's like... my baby.**

**Anywho, I don't own Hetalia. Sigh.**

**Enjoy the last chapter of my baby while I cry in the corner.**

* * *

><p>I have such a case of the jitters.<p>

Okay, I could have phrased that differently.

But, as I sit here in my truck, newly repaired (I ran into a telephone pole back in March), that accurately describes my feelings. The white tux (yes, white-Gilbert, Antonio, and I wanted to match) feels scratchy, my glasses are continually sliding down the bridge of my nose, and the blue bow tie around my nose feels too constricting.

Before I left my house, my mother fussed about my hair and shoes. "Did you even brush your hair?" she scolded. "Why are you wearing your old blue sneakers?"

"They're _converse_, Mom," I sighed. "And it's just prom!"

"Just prom!" she threw her hands up in defeat. "Bloody hell, Alfred. Does Natalya know what you're wearing?"

"Yes, Mom," I nodded. "She knows. She supports my clothing choices."

And Nat does, completely. But I'm just... nervous. Horribly nervous. But there's no time for this; I have to go take pictures now.

I jump down out of my truck and run a sweaty hand through my hair. Taking a deep breath, I saunter up the steps to Nat's front door. Before I knock, she opens it. And I'm blown away.

Natalya didn't let me see her dress until now. It's navy blue, and is "asymmetrical" (I only know this because she told me while describing it last week) on the bottom (it's floor length on the left, and little above the knee on the right, showing off her legs. Which, might I add, are wonderful). Otherwise, it's form-fitted (yay) and strapless (yay) and is made of satin (yay). Oh, and it has a "sweetheart neckline" (another term I learned from Nat). It seems to glitter in the light coming from the hallway behind her.

"Do you like it?" she asks, smiling. As if she couldn't tell by my face.

"Of course," I nod, grinning. I take a step toward her. "In fact, you look se-"

"Good evening, Alfred."

"Evening, Ivan."

Natalya and I have been dating since November, and Ivan _still _insists we shouldn't do anything remotely inappropriate (such activity is reserved for my house). I've come to believe Nat on the fact that he can sense every advance I make on her. Seriously, he catches _everything._

"Aw, Alfred!" Katyusha comes up behind Ivan and Natalya, pushing through them and taking my face in her hands. "You look so handsome! Doesn't he look so handsome, Natalya?"

"Da, he does," Natalya responds. She shoots me an "I'm-Sorry-She's-Touching-You-Again" look. "Can we get this over with? I don't want to be late."

"Of course," Katyusha lets go of me. "We'll take pictures out here. The sky is pretty right now."

Her and Nat switch places. Once she gets next to me, she takes my hand. We wait with Ivan while her sister goes to get the camera.

"What time is this supposed to be over again, Alfred?"

"Eleven. I'll have Natalya home by-"

"Actually," Natalya interjects. "I'm staying over a friend's house tonight."

"Really?" Ivan asks, obviously suspicious. "Who?"

"Analiese Edelstein. She's Alfred's friend's Gilbert's date."

"Ah," Ivan nods, smiling his creepy smile. "Well, alright. I suppose that's fine."

Kat finally comes back with the camera, thank God. "Okay, you two. Get closer to each other," she says. "No, no! Sestra, turn the other-there you go! Oh, you two! So cute, da!"

"Sestra!"

"Da, da. Calm yourself, Natalya," she scolds. "Now smile!"

My grin, I'm sure, is idiotic, but a glance towards Natalya awards me with her gorgeous, light smile. She's so negative, but, if you get her at the right time, she's the happiest person on Earth.

Katyusha must have snapped a dozen picture. "Just one more!" she says, and the flash goes off. "Alright, that's enough."

She takes a step towards us, and takes Natalya by the shoulders. "Oh, sestra. You're growing up so fast."

"Nyet, I'm not," Natalya responds. "I just turned fifteen. You call that grown up?"

Kat shakes her head. "Just go have fun, you two." She turns away and joins Ivan in the door way.

Nat pulls on my sleeve. "Let's go."

Taking her hand, I follow her down the stairs. "I remember my proms," Katyusha says to Ivan. "I wonder where Eduard is now...?"

"I see you cleaned the truck for me," Natalya grins.

"I wouldn't have had to if you let me rent a limo like everyone else."

"Oh, quit it," she chuckles. "I most certainly cannot get up there in this dress."

I open the passenger door and lift Natalya inside. I get a good look at her face now; at my request, she's wearing very little makeup (just mascara and lip gloss). Her hair is up for a change, in a cascading bun like thing on top of her head.

What? I'm not a girl, I don't know the names for different hairstyles. Nat didn't teach me those yet.

"What?" she asks. Oops, I'm staring.

"Nothing," I shrug, then give her a quick kiss.

"Alfred."

"Yes, Ivan. Sorry, Ivan."

I walk over to my side and jump in, starting the truck. Natalya rolls her window down and waves to her family. I pull out and start down the driveway.

"So," I start conversation. "You're going over Ana's house? I thought you didn't get along."

Natalya shakes her head, a question inducing grin on her face. "Nyet," she corrects me. "I'm going to spend the night with you."

"Ohh," I nod, a wide, crooked smile spreading across my face.

She glances over at me. "You're not getting anything."

"IIIIII know."

* * *

><p>The theme for this year's prom, chosen by the senior class, is "A Night In NYC" (their words, not mine). However, I love New York City, as does Nat, so we're both pretty excited about it.<p>

We're talkative during the ride to the hotel where it's being held this year, getting everything out that needs to be said where no one else can hear it. Once we get there, I find a spot in the parking lot, switch the truck off, and go to help Natalya down.

As I open her door, Nat surprises me by pulling out a bouquet of flowers and holding them towards me.

_Shit_. "Oh, my God. Nat, I'm sorry! I can't believe I forgot!"

"Shh, Alfred," she laughs. "I knew you'd forget. So I got my own." She hands the bouquet to me. It matches her dress perfectly. "I didn't want a corsage, they're annoying."

"Oh. Well. In that case," I hold out the bouquet to her. "Your flowers, m'lady."

"Why, thank you," she smiles. "How beautiful."

I wrap my arms around her waist and lower her down onto the asphalt. Then I take her hand, and we start towards the hotel.

Not a few strides away from my truck, we're interrupted. "Yo! Dummkopf!"

I groan. "Gilbert."

Gilbert, in his white suit and bright yellow tie, walks up to Natalya and I with his date, Analiese, who's in a puffy purple number. She waves. Natalya waves back at her, smiling.

We continue walked towards the hotel together. "Where's Ant?" I ask Gilbert.

"Aw, waiting for us up there. Lovina made them very on time."

"Ah," I nod. Lovina is Antonio's long time Italian girlfriend. She has a temper, and she's chewed me out in Italian for some little things I did quite a few times. Natalya might not get along with Ana that well, but she _loves _Lovi. Absolutely loves her.

We reach the entrance, meeting Antonio and Lovina. They, plus Gilbert and Ana, head in front of us.

"Ready?" I smile down at Nat.

"Of course," she grins, dragging me inside.

* * *

><p>Upon our arrival at my house later that night, I'm relieved to find that my mother's already asleep. Natalya and I head right upstairs.<p>

"What do you wanna do?" I ask, tearing off my jacket and depositing it in a corner.

"I don't know," she shrugs. "Don't watch."

"Don't watch what?" I ask, turning arou-

Oh. _That_.

For some reason, Nat decided to neglect my bathroom (which she _knows _I have) and change right in the middle of my room. While I'm with her. Oh, my.

"I told you not to watch," she says, seemingly unaffected by my wandering eyes. She bends down to get a shirt out of her bag.

"No!" I say before I can stop myself.

She straightens up and wrinkles her eyebrows at me, putting her hands on her hips. _Whilst simultaneously puffing out her chest which always happens when she puts her hands on her hips but it's a hell of a lot more noticeable right now._ "What?" she asks.

"... is it really that necessary for you to wear a shirt?"

"Alfred!"

"Sorry, sorry," I sigh, turning away and giving her some privacy. "But, I believe I have a problem."

"With what?"

"My pants."

"What are you-oh."

"Yeah."

"Oh."

I slip out of said pants and sit down on my bed. Nat comes and sits next to me (fully clothed-sigh).

"So," she crosses her legs. "How are you going to fix your problem?"

"Well, maybe you could-"

"Not getting anything, Alfred."

"I figured it was a long shot."

A few moments pass. Then, Natalya sighs, "Well, it _is _prom night..."

I have to think for a second. "Are you proposing what I think you're proposing?"

"I think I am."

I nod. Then, without warning, push her back onto my bed. "I fucking love prom night."

"LANGUAGE, ALFRED!"

"_MOM_!"

* * *

><p><strong>Screen fades to black. Cue credits.<strong>

**WAHHHHHHH is it bad that I feel like crying right now? I feel like I just finished watching _The Notebook. _Sigh.**

**Oh, well. That's the end. First of all, reviews are still most certainly welcome. Be sure to check out some of my other stories, too! Secondly, I'd like to thank all of you who've been following this for over a year. I greatly appreciate you keeping up with my random updates. Love you!**

**I'ma cry now. Really, I am. xD**

**See you guys at my next story! *hugs***


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